


can i feel your heartbeat?

by xxpaynoxx



Category: Football RPF
Genre: Comfort, Cuddling & Snuggling, Fluff, M/M, Making Out
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-08
Updated: 2017-03-08
Packaged: 2018-09-30 21:46:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 855
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10173032
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/xxpaynoxx/pseuds/xxpaynoxx
Summary: Leo can't sleep.





	

Sometimes, when Leo is nervous the night before a game, he finds Neymar.

It’s not something the team has caught onto yet, even though it’s been happening for a while now. It just happens; Leo will curl up in bed across from whoever he’s put with (typically Gerard, but he’s been thrown in with Luis before a few times as well), and his stomach will start to turn as he lies on his back and stares at the ceiling.

It’s been happening since the World Cup, so three years now. Before every game he’s played in the Barcelona shirt, he’s never been _this_ nervous. But after that, after he let one of his countries down, he can’t help but doubt himself. What if his missed penalty costs them the game? What if he costs them a trophy? Or even worse, a Clásico?

He lies on his back for a while, counting the blemishes on the ceiling. There’s not many depending on the quality of the hotel (which is, of course, the best there is to hold the team), so he ends up just staring at it until spots dance in front of his eyes and the colors begin to ripple and warp.

That’s when he gets up and throws on a pair of shorts and slides, shoving a room key into his pocket and slipping silently out the door into the hallway.

All he does is send Neymar a single _X_ , and the three dots immediately pop up at the bottom of the screen, as if he was watching his phone and waiting for a text.

_Door is open. Rafinha is with Ter so I’m alone._

Of course, Leo smirks to himself, he got roomed with Rafinha of all players. The two Brazilians have grown closer since Dani left them both for a brighter future in Italy, and Leo has watched (albeit jealous) at their inside jokes and Portuguese chatter during practices, Umtiti and Digne joining in occasionally in their broken (but rapidly improving) Spanish.

Needless to say, he breaths a sigh of relief that Neymar is alone.

His room isn’t far, just down the hall and around the corner on the left. Leo gets there in no time, but it feels like hours as he pads down the hallway and up to the door, pushing it open without a knock.

The room is dark, save for the bathroom light on low, the strip of yellow lighting up the gold patterned carpet. Leo can see Neymar’s body in the covers, turned on his side, and he can see the glare of his phone from where he’s standing in the parlor part of the room.

He knocks quietly against the wall and Neymar shifts, placing his phone on the table before turning onto his back and sitting up, flashing a blinding sleepy smile at Leo.

“Can’t sleep?”

He always says that, and Leo shakes his head like he always does, as if he would have a different answer. There’s something about curling up with Neymar, feeling the boy attach to him as soon as he sheds his shorts and lies down, placing his head on Leo’s chest as a comforting weight.

“I like to hear your heartbeat,” Neymar told him once, back when he had his wild blonde hair, as he traced Leo’s collarbone with his slim pointer finger. Leo had looked down at him in question, and Neymar blushed a dark red, avoiding his gaze as he admitted that “it makes me remember that you’re alive with me right now, as a reassurance, I guess”. Leo had grabbed his hand that time and kissed his knuckles before placing it down onto his chest.

They lay like that for a while, Leo on his back with his fingers stuck in Neymar’s fluffy new hair that Leo keeps forgetting to tell him he loves (his natural hair makes him seem so _genuine_ , so _young_ and _innocent_ like he’s supposed to be) and Neymar’s head on his chest, the Brazilian’s warm breath huffing against his neck and making him shiver.

Eventually, just like every other time, Neymar’s lips end up attached to his neck and he ends up on top of Leo, grinding slowly against his thigh and Leo’s hands end up slowly brushing along his hips and squeezing at his clothed ass, making Neymar moan against his neck and eventually into his mouth. It’s wet, the kiss, but it’s exactly what Leo needs; he needs this...whatever this is. It calms him, it makes him feel like he’s in control, and Neymar’s needy whines make it sound like he’s alright with that.

Eventually, they both get tired of just making out and grinding against each other like teenagers, so Neymar moves away first, pecking his lips one final time before lying his head on his chest and promptly knocking out in a record time of five minutes and twenty-three seconds (Leo doesn’t count, no way, that’s absurd).

Leo is left staring up at the ceiling again, but with the weight of Neymar on his chest and his fingers stuck in his fluffy curls, he feels calm again.

**Author's Note:**

> sorry for the extended hiatus. i'm just awake right now (and i shouldn't be) and i'm stressed, but writing this helped a lot. i hope you guys enjoy it.


End file.
